Lights Out
by Ciderbreak1
Summary: Max and Logan continue to grow closer as they team up to fight a deadly new drug on the streets of Seattle.
1. Beautiful Day

So far, so plotless

CHAPTER ONE

Logan Cale grimly watched the four judges being led away in handcuffs. His wheelchair was perched on the press dais, affording him an unobstructed view of the action over the crowd of people assembled. When the police cars started driving away, most of the press broke up and sought out their cameramen to go over the story for the final recap, but Logan simply wheeled himself over to the side of the stage. Eyes Only's work was done when the story broke. He only had to tape a sixty-second update for the new streaming freedom video and then he could close the book on the latest of Seattle's dirty little secrets.

"What's the matter, Mr. Cale," came a teasing voice from his right. "Not rushing to get the crowd's reaction on the latest white-collar, smackhead lunacy?"

Logan's heart constricted at the tone of voice, the light sarcasm. He pictured the smile accompanying the words and forced himself to breathe, but when he faced the person addressing him, he was dazzled. As usual.

"Max," he greeted her, returning the smile. She had the stress-free wattage going, about 100 percent. Not even the chilly drizzle could dim it. He wanted to stand up and kiss her dimples until she stopped smiling and started kissing him back. She wore her Jam Pony clothes: short pants, blue lycra-cotton t-shirt that hugged her curves, worn sneakers and a quilted tan jacket. Her dark hair was a cloud of damp curls around her face, like she'd gotten caught in the downpour they'd had earlier. 

"Just stopped by to see a little justice carried out," she said cheerfully, flexing her fingers on her bicycle brakes. 

"Justice," Logan echoed, his smile faltering. "The evidence is there. The public knows. I just have a bad feeling that those judges have an ace I don't know about."

Max followed him down the ramp and easily matched his pace towards his dusty blue Aztec. 

"Not possible," she said confidently. "Eyes Only unleashed holy hell on those money-laundering bastards AND put a major stop sign on the new rape drug. If there were any more grease we would have slipped and fell on our asses. Nah, this one's done. You're just paranoid, as usual."

"As usual? Hey," Logan said good-naturedly, just to hear her laugh. "Seriously, Max, something doesn't feel right about it. It was too easy."

"Too easy?" Max stopped walking and put one hand to her hip, her head cocked with attitude. He loved getting her riled, just to see that pose, but this time he wasn't kidding around. The whole mission played like a textbook, as if underground cyberjournalists had instruction manuals. 

"I know you had to be all stealth-girl," Logan acknowledged, "but think about it. Everything fell into place. It's almost like the judges were set up to take the fall so the package could be wrapped up and locked away. Game over."

"No one likes to dwell on the nightmare," Max agreed. They resumed a casual pace and she took up his thought with a little more passion. "I personally know four girls duped into taking Carfanol. Thought it was E or some other tricked-up stupidity and never even saw the guys who robbed and raped them. It's a four-day black-out and it isn't pretty. If you have even the slightest glimmer of a thought that this case isn't finished, I'll do anything it takes to shut it down for good."

"If the drug is still in production, the only way to stop it is to take out the source. That means the guys doing the chemical stuff, the dealers, maybe even the creator himself, whoever that is. Neither one of us is a narcotics expert, Max. We got one piece of the puzzle, but it's a big jigsaw with the really tiny pieces."

"It's worth it to keep fighting," she told herself out loud. "You know it is."

"I know," Logan said quietly. "I just wish this one would die quietly. It's been a good year, crusading for the downtrodden. This case just bugs me. I'm afraid Eyes Only and his trusty chimera sidekick might have to admit defeat."

"Can't win 'em all."

"Which Manticore lesson was that?"

"Right between cowardice and running away," Max said airily. "You should see me use small children as shields."

"Come over after dinner tonight," Logan invited her. "I might have an ace they don't know about, either."

"Wait, after dinner?" Max nearly whined. "Gonna power up the jet again and I don't even get a meal on the flight?"

"Trust me."

"Lesser men have said as much to me and got their asses kicked. Cute or not."

"I'm not a lesser man." Logan was quick with the banter, but his heart skipped a beat at realizing he'd just had his posterior complimented by a girl whose own luscious backside was the object of a large percentage of his brood time. 

"No," Max agreed, giving him a saucy look. "You're sure as hell not. See ya."

*****

Max stared at the handful of hot pink pills that scattered over the table. She felt Logan's eyes on her face, waiting for her reaction. She wanted to react all over his secret-keeping self. How on earth did he score a bottle of Carfanol in a single afternoon? And why did he have them carelessly spilled on the table like rice? The value alone was staggering, each pill worth eight hundred dollars. The reputation of the little pink pill was what chilled her down to the bone marrow. All anyone had to do was slip one in her drink, or dissolve it against her skin and she'd be helpless, powerless and utterly alone.

"Put those away," she said hoarsely, shoving back from the table and going to stare out the window. Rain again, sheets and sheets of cold ice that had drenched her to the skin on the way over. Logan's shower could almost be called warm, but the change of clothes she kept under the bathroom sink was only short pants and a tank top. Max rubbed her arms, trying to regain a little of the warmth she'd lost. 

Logan's wheelchair appeared next to her and he put a warm hand on the small of her back. Max instantly felt her skin heat up and turned around, a blush diffusing her cheeks. She knew it wasn't a romantic touch, but even the smallest bit of intimacy gave her goose bumps lately. Just because Logan was back in the chair didn't mean they couldn't… 

Max refused to let herself fantasize about what Logan would feel like naked beside her. It was one thing to give reign to a little free thinking on the top of the Space Needle, quite another to do it in front of the object of her affection. Still, the tension remained. She knew he wanted her, could see it in his eyes. Guys were all the same. INot this guy/I Max's conscience twitted her. Logan wanted her, but he also loved her. She could see that in his eyes too; every look of longing, every "be careful," every glass of wine, every smile that reached clear up to make those blue eyes sparkle. All she had to do was make the first move, which meant letting her guard down, which meant trusting him implicitly. If she did that, there'd be no going back. Ever.

"You're cold," he said. 

The frown he wore was self-directed and Max shrugged her shoulders. She was too cranky to cop an attitude. If the man wanted to fetch her a blanket he could very well do so, and on the way past the bathroom he could flush those deadly pink pills. 

"Sit with me," Logan pleaded. 

Max raised and eyebrow and a smile teased her lips, but she saw he was serious and her cheeks burned again. Logan tugged at her hand and she gave in, sitting down and settling herself across his lap. He immediately put his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin, turned so they could both look out the window and watch the rain.

Close-up, Logan smelled like spice and pine sap. It was more elegant than woodsy. His arms were strong and secure around her and his chin rested lightly on the top of her head. She started to warm up immediately, letting all the tension in her body ebb away in the safety of his embrace. After a half-hour of silence, just when her legs started to cramp up, Logan brushed away the hair at the nape of her neck and kissed her barcode. Max couldn't help the little moan that escaped her, nor the hiss of pain that followed when she tried to stand up and discovered her legs were asleep. 

"You okay?"

"More than," she assured him, loving the concern in his blue eyes. "My legs fell asleep, that's all. Thanks for being a human warming blanket."

"Pleasure's all mine," Logan grinned. "Ready to come back to the table and hear my plan?"

"Nothing like a little terrified anticipation to get the blood flowing again," Max said caustically. 

She stayed on Logan's lap, sliding right back into her chair when they reached the table. Her legs and feet tingled. 

"Spill," she commanded, crossing her arms and willing herself not to get lost in his eyes again. 

"Eyes Only got this bottle, pretending to be a bar owner. That's how the stuff is getting out. The manufacturers sell directly to hand-picked bar owners in Seattle and the money gets funneled through the state house in the form of grossly exaggerated liquor license fees. After today's news extravaganza, they're slowing distribution."

"That sounds normal. Lay low til people forget?"

"It's not that nice. They're slowing down because there's a new version of the drug set to come out. It supposedly contains mind-altering substances as well. When people start clamoring for Carfanol again, they'll start pushing the new stuff. It's pretty high octane. We need to expose the manufacturer."

"How?"

"Money."

"You wanna be a little more specific, there, Midas?" 

"I'm a rich, crippled playboy who can't get women unless they're unconscious. But the love of my unlife built up a tolerance to the drug and I need something stronger. I dump truckloads of cash and goods down on the right people, offer to help grease the wheels at the state level, help them to look the other way, and I'll meet the manufacturer."

"That's fucked up, Logan. Not to mention pricey, dangerous and risky."

"Sebastian's going to help me sabotage the operation from a purely chemical level. I need you to help destroy the place. I'm thinking minor inferno."

"They'll just start making it again," Max argued.

"Not in this city."

"Thought you were out to save the world," she chided him. "Tokyo can rot because Seattle needs to be safe? What's so special about this place anyway, besides the fact I can't even bike two blocks without getting soaking wet?"

"You're in it," Logan said simply. "I want this drug out of production. Soon."

"And I'm the girl that's not affected?"

"It's risky. But if you took small, supervised doses, you'd have a tolerance and anything they throw at us will be easy. It would lessen the side affects, if any, of the new pill when it comes out."

"No thanks. I spent enough years as a lab rat. I'm not going to play the whore just to keep some smack out of circulation. The war on drugs is eternal, Logan. You can't win it, no matter how arrogant you are."

Max watched the blood drain from Logan's face when she said the word 'whore.' She knew that wasn't his original intent. Damn, the man just spent half and hour cuddling with her like she was the most precious thing in the city. In return, she slammed his plan and insulted him. Typically, he crossed his arms and stayed silent, but didn't wheel away from the table. She wanted him to retreat to the computer room. His steady, wounded gaze unsettled her. It was forgiveness and wariness wrapped up in one huge, risky moment. She could stomp on his heart right now and never have to mend it. She could just leave.

"Eyes Only isn't the only one who wants Carfanol out of production," Logan continued when he realized Max wasn't leaving. "The judges were in the midst of a plan to start distributing the drug in small doses inside milk cartons, creating a city-wide dependence. That's what I stopped today, with the help of the police. All we have to do now is clean up the back end, stop the actual manufacturing of the pills. We'd have continued police cooperation. Silent, of course. Discreet."

"Don't ask, don't tell," Max muttered.

"When the manufacturer sees you're not affected by the first strain, it might halt production on the new version, long enough for us to take them out from their command center. Word is, they've got a lab in one of the small farming communities up the coast." Logan slid his hand across the table and linked his fingers with hers. "Or, we can just be satisfied that the bigger plan was thwarted and take our chances with the rest. Like you said, we can't win the war."

Max wanted to crawl into his lap again. Instead, she squeezed their hands together and let out the deep breath she'd been holding in.

"They'll never believe you have to drug women to sleep with them," Max argued, giving him a little smile. "The rich playboy part? IThat/I you can pull off."

"Gee, thanks."

"I could probably manage to dredge up my Academy Award-winning acting skills and play your ditzy girlfriend," Max put her two cents in. "We could tell them I started taking the pills myself when I found out they helped me to sleep at night. The tolerance was an accident. Perverted drug lords will have no problem believing you like it better when I'm unconscious."

"I like it better when you're awake." Logan didn't miss a beat. "Or, I would."

"Yep," Max grinned. "You would."


	2. Lights Out

Lights Out 

Lights Out 

Ch. 2

DISCLAIMER: FOX owns all DA characters. No infringement implied.

"I'm no lightweight," Max insisted. "Don't cut that in half." She extended her palm, demanding the whole pill that Logan was about to split. 

"It's called _building_ a tolerance, Max. I'm not going to take any chances." Logan made the cut and pressed half a pink pill into her hand. Her lopsided grin made his heart skip a beat. In unnerved him to be this nervous over a simple Eyes Only mission. He involved Max in dangerous activity all the time, but he'd never purposefully handed her a drug that would knock her out and leave him totally in control. Once she'd decided to play along, her trust was immediate and total. She was almost cavalier about the whole thing, making twisted and darkly funny references to doomed princesses in Disney movies and teasing him about being a true pimp daddy. He knew it was just her way of trying to get him to ease up, but he couldn't, not for a second. Feeding Carfanol to the woman he loved… now, there was an activity that wouldn't be on the Club Med vacation schedule any time soon. In no time at all, Max would be completely helpless and under his care. No way would he lose vigilance over this.

"See?" Max swallowed the pill easily, without water, and batted her eyelashes at him. "Now you can have your wicked way with me."

Logan grimaced and pushed away from the table, fuming. He knew she was kidding. He knew it for sure in the way her eyes sparkled and her body slouched in the chair. They both knew he wouldn't touch her if she wasn't awake to allow it, but for one brief second an image of Max, asleep on his bed, sent his hormones into hyperspace. Normal male reaction aside, it made him furious that even one drop of that idea had entered his brain. He'd had fantasies that ranged to a further extreme, but none involved the use of manipulative drugs. Even fleeting thoughts in this scenario counted in the "Logan Cale should go straight to hell" section of his guilt files. 

"I would never hurt you," he said softly, turning and spearing her with his sincerity. 

"Logan. I was kidding."

"I know it," he agreed. "But I've seen a video of how fast this drug works. Laid awake all night after I saw it, praying it wouldn't happen to you some night at Crash. The thought of you being hurt by something like this…"

Logan audibly swallowed an unmanly lump in his throat, cleared it and tried to muster up a self-deprecating smile. Max's face wasn't jocund anymore, and his own smile faltered. She stood, made her decision, then walked over to him and knelt on the floor at his feet. His head was only slightly above hers and she was bold enough to reach around his waist and lock her fingers together. He couldn't wheel away without making her fall.

"You can't fight all the bullies on my playground," she stated.

"I can fight this one," he promised. 

"My hero," Max said, bringing back the smile that made her cheeks dimple. She gracefully rose to her feet and deposited herself on his lap, draping one arm around his shoulders. She'd been in his lap a lot tonight, she reflected, and neither of them really seemed to mind. "So, how long til lights out?"

"I have no idea."

"We should really find something to do to pass the time."

"Chess?" Logan suggested innocently. Max was staring at his mouth, her heavy-lidded gaze concentrated on what suddenly seemed like the entrance point to ecstasy. "Max…"

"I'm not unconscious yet," she whispered, her lips so close her could feel her words as she spoke them. 

Logan wasn't sure who kissed whom. As soon as he felt Max's lips on his, Logan reached up and sunk one hand into her tousled curls, tangling his fingers in the strands. She may have initiated contact, but he was the one who set the pace. Slow, easy, all closed-mouth explorations that didn't have him seeking her tonsils like a randy teenager. Make no mistake about the randiness, but Logan wasn't about to ever put his pleasure before hers. Trying to encourage the race of her heart and the unconscious squirming she was torturing him with, Logan licked her lower lip. Max gasped, and Logan took the opportunity to seek her tongue. They both jumped at the first tentative, wet contact and fused their mouths together. Logan's hand fisted in her hair now, Max moved to straddle him, all energy and concentration poured into one soul-searching, mind-numbing kiss that tasted like rain and felt like fire. 

If a hundred Manticore soldiers crashed into the room, Max would gladly give herself up into their hands as long as they let her finish this kiss. Logan had confidence and patience, which was rare in her experience. Just when she thought he was gonna play it safe, he'd turned up the heat and kissed her with a desperate edge, a driving force of pure male desire. Instinctively, she arched her back, pressing her breasts against him, pleased to hear him groan and deepen the kiss. The hand that wasn't in her hair splayed against her lower back, his thumb teasing the hot skin underneath her shirt. The wild kiss continued until Logan broke away, breathing heavily. Max heard herself whimper at the loss of him and ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth.

"I can still taste you," she said. 

"Jesus," Logan breathed, both curse and prayer. 

"Some kiss," Max murmured, her eyes on his swollen mouth. Her jaw tingled from where his scruff had scraped her, and she went boneless thinking of how that would feel pressed intimately against other parts of her. She'd never come to the brink of release from a single kiss before. Kendra's wild claims were starting to make a lot more sense and Max wished she'd paid better attention.

"What?" Logan prodded when he saw her smile.

"Kendra."

"Your roommate?"

"Yeah. Damn, she was right."

"Right about what? Wait, do I want to know this?"

"I can't even compete with her sexcapades. Mostly I'm just livin' vicariously, happy for a sister to get some and not be emotionally wrecked afterwards. But now she's in love and says all the rules change. Says a kiss feels different. Says you can puddle just _looking_ at the man who's got your number, if you've got his." Max broke off, embarrassed. "Whatever. I don't really have any words for how you just kissed me. All I know is that I want you to do it again…_ah_."

"Max?" 

"Everything went black for a second. Just for a second."

Gone was the lust, replaced by trepidation. 

"Come on. I'm taking you to bed." Logan blushed at the Freudian slip, even as he unlocked the wheels and started carrying the two of them across the penthouse. Max laughed but stayed put, not trusting herself to get up and walk across the vast expanse of wood floor. 

"Everything's getting fuzzy. Like a brown-out in my brain."

"Almost there."

Max remembered crawling into bed and dragging soft sheets over her. She remembered Logan tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and promising to take care of her. 

And then she slept.


	3. Rude Awakening

Lights Out 

Lights Out 

Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: FOX owns all Dark Angel characters. No infringement implied.

Thanks to all who have given feedback for this fic! It's really encouraging. The plot isn't exactly set in stone, so if you have any opinions on what you'd like to see happen, let me know! I'll try to appease.

Max woke up because something uncomfortable was digging into her ass. 

The room she was in was dark, and the predictable sound of rain did a lot to soothe her upon waking. She remembered Logan helping her into bed, but everything after that was dreamless sleep. She arched her hips a little and found the offending object. It felt like a tube, and seemed to be connected to…

Max's heart raced as she moved her other arm to find a light and discovered there was another tube connecting her left arm to a bag of saline, with more little wires attaching little sticky tabs from her chest to a heart monitor. The tube between her legs was undeniably a catheter. Stunned, she sat up in the bed and examined her surroundings in the dark. She had to be in Logan's bedroom. The guest room had a smaller bed and lacked all the personal touches of alarm clock, keys tossed on the overstuffed dresser and framed photos of his parents. 

Nothing could explain all the medical equipment, however, and she flipped on the light. 

Logan wheeled into the room seconds later, his eyes immediately going to her arm.

"Don't take that out," he commanded. She obeyed, guiltily snatching her hand away from the needle.

"Logan, what the hell is going on?" Max demanded, unable to keep a tremor of fear out of her voice. "What is all this? What happened?"

Logan reached her bedside and took a deep breath. 

"Say it," she barked.

"You've been unconscious for a week and a half," Logan told her succinctly. 

Max sat back against the headboard in disbelief. She wanted him to laugh and tell her it was all just a joke, but his pale, worried face told her he wasn't kidding. Logan's eyes flicked to the heart monitor, up to the IV bag, and back to the scared look in her eyes that was too fierce to hide. He took her left hand in his and squeezed it gently. 

"Calm down," he said softly.

Max felt tears well up in her eyes and almost let them fall. She could handle the surprise of waking up attached to a bunch of tubes and machines, but Logan's knowing words threatened to undo her. He knew. He knew that her practiced look of complacency belied the fact that inside she was screaming, climbing the walls and ready to escape. 

"I'm calm," she lied, snatching her hand back. "Explain how half a pill could knock me out that long."

"I can't," Logan told her honestly. "The best we could figure—"

"We?"

"Bling and I. Would you rather I took you to a hospital, or maybe gave Manticore a ring?"

Max grunted, but let him continue without interruption.

"I think your unique body chemistry reacted unfavorably with the ingredients in the drug. I never should have talked you into doing this. I'm so sorry, Max."

Max wanted to give him hell, because she was scared, but took one look at his ravaged face and chose compassion instead. She'd taken the drug without coercion. Neither of them suspected anything would go wrong. No one was at fault. No one should be blamed. 

"It was an accident," she said with a lighthearted shrug. "No big dealio. 'Course, our plan is now shot to hell, but don't worry, we'll think of something else."

"I couldn't wake you up," Logan whispered, blinking back tears. "You wouldn't wake up."

"Logan…"

"I thought you'd be out maybe a day. Not four. Not eleven whole days. I thought I'd killed you."

"I'm fine," Max assured him, sliding her hand back into his. She doubted he was aware of the hot tears cascading down his unshaven cheeks or that he was holding her hand so tight her fingertips tingled. Logan finally let go of all the fear and stress he'd been carrying, put his head down, and wept. Max put a comforting hand on the back of his neck and rubbed gently where his barcode would be if he was an X-5. She was speechless. She'd never seen a grown man so overwrought with emotion that he actually sobbed like a child. In a way it was more intimate than a kiss. 

When Logan finally cried himself out, he lifted his head and looked past Max to the window, where a heavy rain pelted against the glass. 

"Sorry," he muttered. 

"No shame in it," she told him honestly. 

"I'll go call Bling to come over and get you out of this stuff," Logan said in his normal, efficient-sounding tone of voice. Max plucked at his shirt to keep him from wheeling away. 

"I'll do it," she assured him. "Who did you get to steal all this medical equipment, anyway, if I was out of commission? You got another cat burglar on retainer?"

"Yeah, a whole string of them," Logan said. "Actually, I just ordered it all of the internet."

"No way."

"Way. Overnight express Jam Pony delivery. Normal dropped it off himself."

"Okay, now you're messing with me."

"I'm not," Logan said, smiling. "Figured it was all my fault your life was suddenly and inexplicably on hold, so I paid good money to have him go with Original Cindy on the run. He's not a bad guy. Kind of anal, but you should have seen his face when he saw you lying in a coma. Thought he was gonna break down right then and there."

"Oh yeah, okay."

"Original Cindy, on the other hand, kicked my ass."

"That's my homegirl," Max said proudly. "Wait, she did?"

"Verbally, anyway. My ears are still ringing. I'm ordered to call her three times a day until you wake up."

"Can you call her first thing in the morning? I don't really feel up to a visit right now," Max said, quickly peeling the heart monitor tabs off her skin. The machine started beeping frantically and Logan switched it off. 

"How _do_ you feel?" he inquired. 

"I can't wait to get into the shower," Max said with enthusiasm. "But I have a headache and feel kinda slow and achey. Like a fat house fly." Slowly, she eased the needle out of her vein and raised that arm over her head, carefully stretching it out. "You should have Sebastian do a lab report on the Carfanol I took."

"Done," Logan said. "He said that without complete blood work, we won't know why you reacted so violently to it, and we can't invite Manticore into the investigation, so we'll just have to settle for the mystery."

"Damn," Max swore softly.

"Well, I can call Lydecker if you want, but I thought you'd rather deal with the lack of knowledge."

"No, not that. This."

Max got up on her knees and reached under the hospital johnny. Her fist closed over the catheter and she just wanted to yank it out, no matter how stupid that would be. It frustrated her that she couldn't see it. She had two choices. She could let Logan fumble his way down there, or…

"I'll get you a mirror."

"That'd be swell."


	4. Plans for Saturday

Lights Out

Lights Out

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Dark Angel is the property of FOX. No infringement implied.

The apartment seemed empty when Max went home. Logan washed the breakfast dishes, dried them and stacked them neatly in the cupboard. He went through the morning headlines, checked his email, organized a few file folders and wondered if Normal was giving Max any flack at Jam Pony. Bling came by for therapy, Mrs. Merino stopped by with a banana bread still warm from the oven, and Logan smiled and related and entertained. 

He was miserable.

His pride hated to admit it, but while Max was in his care he'd started thinking of her as far more than a "friend with potential." She belonged in his bedroom not as a visitor but as a permanent fixture. Logan wanted her tank tops tangling with his undershirts in the drawer. He wanted the intimacy of bed head and spats over whose turn it was to wash dishes and a partner to play chess with during brown outs. He wanted her to come through the door because it was her home, not because he beeped her to come over. 

Was that love, then? Wanting the messy reality over the safe-yet-beautiful fantasy? It sure was different from the glossy magazine version of love. If he played by the whacked-out media's rules, he should be put down for not seducing Max from the beginning. Logan's mouth curled up in a private smile as he remembered the kiss they'd shared before she took the dose of Carfanol. That one kiss was hotter than some whole relationships he'd had. He could wait happily for the slow culmination of events, so long as she kept kissing him like that. 

It would be completely selfish to beep her for no reason.

Logan rifled through the Carfanol file for the rest of the morning, trying to find some missing link, some angle he'd missed. Maybe if he found something, he could come up with a plan that Max could execute. Then she'd have to come over and…

Disgusted, Logan wheeled away from the computer and looked out the window. A pigeon hopped along the ledge and turned the corner, out of sight. The sky was a dirty gray that foretold another cold rain. It suited his mood but didn't soothe him. 

__

What do I want? To save the world or make Max fall in love with me? 

Logan admitted he couldn't use Max to save the world. Neither could he use the broken world as an excuse to deepen his relationship with Max. 

__

This is why they tell you not to date your co-worker.

"Hey." Max's cheerful voice jolted him out of his brown study and he turned around with a little-boy grin on his face. 

"Hey. How are you?"

"Sore," she admitted, shrugging off her backpack. It fell to the floor with a thump and she dropped onto the couch, sprawling against the buttery leather. "Normal was impressed I came in, so I milked him for a long lunch break. Got anything to eat?"

Logan nodded, looking pointedly at her sneakers, which violated the "no shoes on the couch" rule she loved to ignore. She always waited for him to give her the frown before she complied. It was ritual. Comfortable. Familiar, just like the way she always asked for food so casually even though he knew that if he didn't feed her she'd just go without. 

"It's a hot soup day," Logan informed her. "Just relax and I'll fix lunch."

"Girl could get used to this," Max sighed delightedly. Logan stopped mid-way to the kitchen, turned the chair around, and wheeled over to the couch. Max opened her eyes and cocked her head to the side. "What?"

"Could you?"

"Could I what?"

"Get used to this."

"This what, you feeding me? Don't worry, I promise I'll never take you for granted. Is there gonna be anything green in the soup? Herbal's on this big B Vitamin kick and we're all guilted into spending our piddly paychecks on the most horrible vegetables."

"No," Logan said patiently, willing himself the courage to continue. Hopefully his scruff hid the dull blush that crept up his face. "This. Us. Together, and not just for meals."

Max sat up fully and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. Logan was prepared for a glib response, maybe a total attack on his fragile ego. 

"Yes," she said simply. "All you gotta do is ask."

"Ask," he repeated dumbly. 

Max laughed low in her throat and relaxed back into the cushions. The look in her dark eyes was the one that made his heart race the most—half minx, half playful kitten. He suddenly realized that he would do anything she asked, no matter how impossible. It made him feel simultaneously powerful and defenseless, arrogant and humble. He wished he had the words to try and explain that paradigm without sounding like a complete babbling idiot, but he was at a loss. 

"What do you want?" Max asked softly. 

"You," Logan replied automatically.

The Eyes Only Informant Net computer chose that specific moment to start beeping rapidly. It wouldn't shut off until Logan entered the code, so he reluctantly wheeled over to the desk and made the beeping stop. His eyes automatically glanced over the information that popped up on screen, though he had no intention of following it up at this critical moment. The world could wait for like two more minutes while he tried to say "I love you" to his erstwhile girlfriend. 

"Woah." The word slipped out unbidden and Logan scooted closer to the screen. "This is a map of Terry Harbor, north of Seattle. My informant wanted me to zero in on this… huh."

"Unless that's the location of the makers of my wonder drug, I'm not getting off the couch, "Max said airily. She was used to Logan switching quickly into Eyes Only mode. It was endearing, in a geeky way, but she loved when he got the excited gleam in his blue eyes.

"Get off the couch." Logan didn't hear Max move, but felt her leaning over his shoulder a second later. "Terry Harbor, population 15, 840. It was a tourist town with a small university before the pulse. But now they're the largest manufacturer of paper products for the Pacific Northwest."

"What paper products?" Max asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure most of the supplies get commandeered at the border checkpoint and end up going to the government to sell overseas, same as everything else. There are a lot of warehouses in Terry Harbor, and a huge paper mill. My informant was most interested in this building." Logan pointed to a square outlined in red.

"That's not near the mill," Max pointed out, looking at the map.

"No. This building is directly connected to the chemistry lab at the University. It should be shut down, like the rest of the school, but if someone opened up the lab I doubt they'd get much notice from the police or the hoverdrones. The school is off-limits and has a reputation for being haunted."

"Well, that's just ridiculous," Max said.

"In the fall of '09, the students revolted right before fall semester. No one remembers what they were fighting for, things were still crazy back then, but everyone remembers the massacre."

"I know," Max said, pushing away from the desk and going over to her backpack. "I gotta blaze. I promised Sketchy I'd try and kife a head of lettuce on my way back through the market."

"Max, what? This is probably the location of the lab. We have to go check it out."

"I know. And we will. But today, I have to be a good little bike messenger. Tomorrow's Saturday. We'll do it then."

"Max," Logan protested, following her to the door. Her abrupt change in attitude baffled him. She'd gone from cheerful to sexy to concerned to aloof in a matter of minutes. Now she was speeding out the door without even mentioning lunch. Something was definitely wrong.

"See ya," she called over her shoulder.

Logan stared at the closed door for a full minute before resignedly wheeling back to the computer room. 


	5. Survivor

Lights Out 

Lights Out 

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: FOX owns all Dark Angel characters. No infringement implied.

The ride out to Terry Harbor was heavy with silence. Max stared out the window the entire time and all Logan saw of her face was a cloudy reflection in the window. They'd left Seattle after Max ended work at Jam Pony for the day. Max showed up at his place with a black duffel bag and an attitude, demanding they slip out of the city before curfew. Logan had his bag ready as well, and didn't point out that curfew wasn't for another six hours. He wondered if the drug was still in Max's system, maybe causing her to be a little off her game, but he didn't dare venture that idea. Her reflexes were as quick as ever when she grabbed his keys off the dresser and threw them directly into his lap without looking. No, whatever was eating at Max had nothing to do with her recent stint in a coma. 

Max watched blankly as the city shrank from view and trees began to line the roads instead. The forest was supposed to be a place of grandeur, of freedom and beauty. Instead, all she saw were places to hide, dangerous terrain to run in, and potential traps in the dense foliage. Trees were useful for climbing to survey a wide area. They could be chopped down for shelter, for fuel, for weapons. As they approached Terry Harbor, her whole body tightened like a coiled spring. She knew the terrain here; rocky, scraggly pines, tall hemlocks and white pines, all damp and holding fog in their branches. 

She could still smell the blood.

How long had it been, nine years? Ten? Max stopped counting after awhile. Time didn't matter when you lived meal to meal, paycheck to paycheck, squatting in dilapidated buildings and hiding from military command. Still, she would never forget the massacre at Terry Harbor, no matter how many days stretched on into eternity.

Logan drove the car into a dark spot behind a boarded up dorm and shut the engine. Max could see the worry on his face perfectly in the dark and was tempted to tell him everything, right down to the way hot blood felt running through her fingertips. Instead, she unbuckled her seatbelt and faced him, expecting orders from Eyes Only, hardening her heart to the man behind the mask.

"You okay?"

"You asked me that seven times since we left Seattle."

"'Cause every time I ask, you mutter "fine" and roll your eyes. It's not like you."

"Sure, 'cause I'm all about sugar and spice."

Logan gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, counting to ten. Max watched him, trying to ignore the sharp guilt that she felt. She knew he cared, deeply. Being a bitch while he was trying to draw her out, trying to help, was pure meanness and she knew better. She also had years of combat training drilled into her brain and branded on her soul, and self-protective measures were the hardest to let go of. The problem was loyalty, any way she dealt with it. She could stay loyal to her secrets and keep hurting Logan, or she could come clean with the whole sordid past and risk his friendship. Either way, she was laid out completely vulnerable, which was the worst kind of failure according to Manticore. 

"Fine," Logan said resignedly. "Tonight is strictly recon. We don't know anything about the lab, so we need every piece of intel you can get. Entrances, exits, security, workers, everything. When you're finished, which shouldn't take more than two hours, we'll go back to Uncle Jonas's cabin for the night and tomorrow take a little jaunt into town, see what we can pick up from the people in Terry Harbor."

"What's that awful smell?" Max wanted to know. 

"That's the paper mill."

"Nasty."

"Agreed. So, if you can take less than two hours I'd be grateful, considering I have to stay downwind from the plant."

Max nodded instinctively, the way she did when Zack gave an order for the group to fall out. Just a quick downward cut of her head with her eyes betraying no emotion whatsoever. Logan flipped the automatic door locks, preventing her from leaving the car, which surprised her into giving him one emotion—annoyance.

"What now?" she asked impatiently. "You want this intel or not?"

"I need to know you're okay."

"I'm _fine_," Max spat. "I've had a crappy week, if you don't remember, and if you must know, the past keeps kicking my ass. I'm dealing, everything will be fine, so back off."

"The past. Manticore?"

"Sure. You wanna unlock the doors, E.O.?"

Logan grimaced at the sarcastic nickname and jammed his finger down on the control to unlock the car. Max slammed the door shut when she left, but couldn't help sneaking a look over her shoulder as she moved towards the lab. Logan's face looked sad, not angry, and that finally made remorse kick in. It would be easier to hold up her icy façade if he stayed furious with her, but instead he looked all "lost puppy" and that cut through all her cold armor. She resolved to tell him everything when they were safe in the cabin. Well, as much as she could stand without breaking down like a total wuss.

****

Max scaled the building with ease. She didn't even need her climbing gear, due to the decorative bricks that jutted out from the wall at convenient intervals. Free climbing at night was one of her favorite Manticore exercises. She could see in the dark, she wasn't afraid of heights, and she liked to be fast. The old chemistry lab was almost exactly the height and width of the old Manticore trash/recycling building. Even the texture of the bricks felt the same. Beyond creepy.

The roof had one window that poked up like a bubble on a pizza. The panes of glass were painted from the inside, so she couldn't peer in. There was no audible sound emanating from that exit, so Max slipped down the opposite side of the building, avoiding the large windows. On the third floor there was a small landing that around the side of the chemistry facility to connect it to the warehouse next door. It was that ledge that led Max to an open window just small enough for her to shimmy through.

She landed soundlessly on the floor of the warehouse, her eyes immediately adjusting to the dim fluorescent lighting. Typical warehouse fare; splintered wooden pallets, dust, scratched forklifts, cement floor with rusty drains, broken sprinkler system. She crept around the floor, opening crates with her gloved fingers, taking mental stock of all the illegal contraband contained in the large space. They weren't just shipping Carfanol, though there were plenty of little bottles of the dangerous hot pink pills. They also had filled invoices for morphine, vicodin, codeine and other addictive painkillers. The invoices had overseas addresses on them, which was both unsettling and a relief at the same time. Max was glad they weren't pushing the drugs into the city, but it still didn't fare well for their warring neighbors. The door leading into the chemistry lab was locked with a combination keypad. Max had left all her equipment in the hatch of the Aztek, so she contented herself with running her fingers over the lock and whispering "soon" like it was a lover. A locked door was like candy on Halloween. Never enough, every bit of it sweet.

The lab had no windows on ground level, so Max let herself into the basement, but found no access there either. It seemed the only way into the lab was through the warehouse, and the warehouse was empty. No timecards, no leftover lunch bags or post-it notes, nothing to signify that humans ever occupied the space. It was obvious that the main office was housed in another building, in case they had to leave in a hurry. 

Max climbed back up to the small window and arched her torso through the small space, easing her backside and legs through seconds later. It would have been easier to sneak out the ground level door, but then she wouldn't have the pleasure of climbing back down the wall. 

Logan was monosyllablic on the trip back to the cabin. He didn't press her about their earlier fight, nor did he ask what she'd discovered. _Probably doesn't wanna get called "E.O." again_, Max thought smugly. She made herself extra helpful by carrying in both their duffel bags and spreading out the sleeping bags: his in the bedroom, hers in front of the fireplace. Logan looked wiped out and Max didn't blame him for going straight to bed. It was two in the morning, after all, and just because she didn't need sleep didn't change his needs at all. 

She didn't blame herself, either, for waiting until he fell asleep and then creeping to the door of his room and sitting in the doorway to watch him sleep. Logan slept on his back with one hand resting on his stomach and the other resting at his side. He breathed heavily but didn't snore, though a few times Max heard him say a few random words like "soccer" and "hoverdrone." She watched his chest rise and fall and memorized every inch of his sleeping face. She ached to slide into bed beside him and fit herself against him, maybe throw one leg over his and hold on tight. He wouldn't even have to move. She wanted strands of her hair to get caught in his ever-present five o'clock shadow, wanted to fight over the covers, wanted to warm her cold feet against his warm ones. It suddenly struck her that she couldn't have the physical intimacy if the emotional intimacy was absent. 

Lydecker be damned. She would tell Logan about the massacre at Terry Harbor. All of it. Soon.

__

Why not now?

Max looked at her watch. 4:12 a.m. He'd had two solid hours of sleep, and her tale shouldn't take that long. She was fairly bursting with it now, every pore screaming to get it off her shoulders and half onto his to help bear the load. With feline grace she joined him on the bed, kneeling next to him. Up close he smelled like Old Spice deodorant and sleep. 

"Logan. Logan, wake up," Max said softly, pushing on his sternum. It wasn't the easiest way for someone to wake up but it never failed. Logan opened his eyes and took a deep breath, squinting at her in the darkness.

"Max?" he asked concernedly, reaching blindly on the bedside table for his glasses. He inadvertently pushed them onto the floor and put his head back on the pillow with a groan.

"I have to talk to you."

"What's the matter?" He propped himself up on his elbows and then pushed himself up to a sitting position, covering a mighty yawn with one hand. "Are you alright?"

"No. I have to talk to you about Terry Harbor."

"Now?"

"I was at the massacre. I helped," Max confessed, her words coming out in a rush. She focused her eyes on the window past his head as she talked. "I was on my way to Seattle after the escape from Manticore. The Pulse was the best thing that ever happened to me because no one cared about a lost little girl when everyone was lost. Terry Harbor was a great place to hide because it was always filled with people and I liked the ocean. They didn't have a paper mill back then. Just hotels and an aquarium and the university. When September came, people were still trying to pretend that life could go on the way it did before the Pulse, and it was the students who revolted against the military command and the media propaganda. They were right, Logan—it was chaos, almost war, and the government wanted to pretend everything was fine."

"Max, I had no idea."

"Wait," she begged. "I didn't know where to hide when they started bombing the hotels. They ate the fish in the aquarium. They wanted to take over the university and turn it into a prison, so the students staged a huge, bloody resistance and almost won. They were fighting against the town, and I considered myself part of the town so I joined in with the residents of the town and the military presence. All I knew from Manticore was that military presence would keep order. I didn't understand who was right and who was wrong. Making a prison for the bad guys seemed good to me at the time. I didn't know, really, I didn't know. I didn't know the students were fighting for freedom, and I helped take it away from them."

"Max, it wasn't your fault."

"The police just handed me a weapon like everyone else. It was a bayonet. My arm never got tired. The only reason I had to finally let go was because the blood ran down the blade and made the handle too slippery to hold. My sleeve was soaked to the shoulder. I thought I was doing good. I thought I was on the right side, so I completed the mission and killed as many of them as I could. I was good at it. I liked it."

Max was dimly aware of Logan wiping tears from her face, but didn't realize she was outright crying until he pulled her into his arms and she realized the horrible wailing was coming from her own self. Ten years of repressed guilt and torment couldn't be assuaged with a simple pat on the back and a "forget about it." Luckily, Logan was astute enough to realize this and waited until she didn't have any more tears left. He groped for a kleenex and handed it to her to mop herself up. 

"I hate killing," Max confessed. "But I'm a killer. That's how they made me. Sometimes I think that's what I am."

"Max, you know that's not true."

"Not now. But can I really change genetics?"

"If pure genes determined your vocation, Manticore wouldn't have had to train you. You'd instinctively wake up and live a life of evil. And sure, maybe you would have stayed that way if you hadn't escaped. But Max, you took all the things they gave you—determination, speed, agility, loyalty, cunning, all that stuff—and used it to help others. And steal the occasional grapefruit."

"You're saying I should just be let off the hook for helping to slaughter dozens of helpless college students?"

"No. I'm saying you should forgive yourself. You can't atone for something that big, Max, you just can't."

Max searched his eyes, making sure he was for real. It shocked her to see a lack of horror in his dark blue gaze. His calm acceptance of who she was finally convinced her to put the old ghosts away, or at least try. Logan Cale, mighty Eyes Only, wouldn't keep company with a depraved psycho-killer. If he could forgive her, love her in spite of her past, she should honor him and try to do the same. 

"Easier said than done."

"So, it'll take time."

"You don't sound worried."

"I'm not." Logan saw the unspoken "why" and hurried to explain. "I guess it's because I'm in love with you and I can't imagine anything changing that, no matter what."

"You're in love with me?"

Logan groaned and ran a hand through his spiky hair.

"I said that out loud, huh."

"For real?" Max asked, wincing inwardly at how shaky that sounded.

"For real, forever."

Without his glasses, in the dark, Logan couldn't see her smile.

But he could feel her kiss.


	6. Love and Recon

Lights Out 

Lights Out 

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: FOX owns all Dark Angel characters. No infringement implied.

The first thing Logan saw when he opened his eyes was Max looking at him with love and amusement.

"Sleep well?" she inquired sweetly, unable to keep herself from smoothing down a little piece of his bed-head hairstyle. 

"Dreamless," he replied, reaching for her hips, drawing her closer. With a sigh, he scooted down in bed until his head rested on her stomach, so she could toy with his messy hair all she liked. Her belly was warm, soft, and in no way was helping him to wake up. 

"What? I didn't grace your dreamscape?" Max teased softly. She hardly recognized her own voice. Sure, the sarcasm was there, but it was laced with a sappy kind of love she'd only ever mocked in other people. She probably owed Kendra a dozen "I know you told me so" drinks. 

"I don't have to dream about you anymore," Logan murmured, and brushed his lips over her skin in a nuzzling kiss. "You're here with me, real."

"Mmm." 

They remained silent for several long minutes. Logan slowly became more aware of his surroundings. His vision was a little blurry without his glasses, but he knew he was in bed, in his uncle's cabin, with Max. He replayed the previous night in his mind, remembering Max's tearful confession and his response. Something about her kiss, which was probably only meant to be a fierce thank you, pushed them both over the edge and caused the general nakedness he was now experiencing. He smiled, unable to keep the goofy grin off his face. 

Max felt his whiskers move and looked down to see a little-boy smile on Logan. She had her own reasons to smile. In her experience, sex was something you agreed upon, planned out, and executed with moderate pleasure to both parties. It wasn't supposed to be this desperate, awkward passion that flooded your senses and turned you into a trembling pile of need. Max felt like the world made a little more sense. They must know something of this consuming desire you could have for another human being. Songs got sung, poems got written and somewhere in the mixed up maze, Max finally understood why the world insisted on mushy cards and black market flowers despite the sacked economy.

"Gotta get up," she said reluctantly, her eyes trained on the window. The sun was already a little high, at least ten a.m. "Embrace the day. Still got recon in town to take care of. Maybe we'll find a restaurant and you can buy me brunch or something."

Logan mumbled something incoherent and snuggled in a little closer.

"I thought Eyes Only was a morning person," Max teased, trying not to be affected by the way his thumb brushed back and forth over her hipbone.

"Eyes Only was up half the night making love with you," Logan said. He watched the goose bumps appear on Max's skin. Straight up honesty when she expected a glib answer always affected her. She grew quiet again, so Logan contentedly remained where he was.

"I liked it," Max said after a few minutes. She sounded shy and surprised. 

"Me too."

"No, I mean… forget it."

"Not letting you off the hook that easy," Logan stated firmly. "Spill." He didn't look up, but knew the expression on her face from memory. First she'd roll her eyes and try to just shrug it off, then say "gotta blaze" and take the easy way out. But here, he had his arms around her and wasn't letting her move.

"I've never trusted anyone so completely before," Max said. "Last night goes against everything I ever learned at Manticore. I lost control. Even when I'm in heat and sex is a necessity, not a luxury, I never let go the way I did last night. And the craziest thing is that it wasn't even a conscious decision, it just sort of happened. One minute I was preparing to launch into the zone and the next minute you made all the rules jump out the window. And I liked it."

"That's good, right?" Logan said hopefully. 

"Hell, yeah!" Max enthused, laughing. 

When she stopped laughing, Logan jokingly bragged about his sexual prowess and she pretended to stroke his male ego. It was fun, this non-intense banter thing. But even that new discovery had to end when Max remembered the mission. Not even Logan's wandering hands could deter her from getting into Terry Harbor and putting some old ghosts to rest. She wiggled out of Logan's grasp and looked around the room, trying to locate where any of her clothing may have ended up.

"We can come back later and, you know, nap before we go out tonight," Max assured him. 

"But you don't sleep," Logan said, smiling.

"Neither will you," she promised.

*****

Terry Harbor was like all the other fog-shrouded towns along the dilapidated coast, except that this one had industry, and therefore, a little bit more wealth than usual. Residents worked in the paper mill or down at the docks, seeing to the ships that carried the supplies up into Canada or down the coast. Though the University was off-limits, the rest of the town was active and busy. Max and Logan found several brunch options and ended up in a family-run establishment with plenty of locals. They had the disadvantage of being outsiders, but the boon of being new lovers, which translated into any language. Max had to try his waffles and he had to hold the fork, then he sipped out of her orange glass when his got low, then she looked him straight in the eyes and bit down on a fat strawberry that made every cell in his body stand up and salute. 

"Newlyweds, eh?" said the waitress with a smile. Logan was still a little stunned, so Max answered for them both.

"Does it show?" 

"Just a little," the waitress smiled. 

"We couldn't afford to go anywhere really big for a honeymoon, y'know? So we just planned this trip up the coast. My dad used to work at the University before the Pulse and I wanted to show Logan all my old haunts."

"Well, we now have the new paper mill, which I suggest staying upwind from," the waitress advised. Max leaned forward like she was interested in every piece of tourist advice, sliding her hand across the table to link fingers with Logan. "There's the office park, that has as close to a mall as we'll ever get. Oh, and the Forestry service rents bikes and camping gear if you want to do any exploring. It's really pretty. Most visitors come for the work and stay because of the landscape. The ocean and the forest are about the only things around here the Pulse didn't destroy."

"I hear that," Max said solemnly. "Is the University open? I didn't see any cars and I was surprised they hadn't turned it into a school or a military zone or something."

"Nah, it's all tied up in litigation so dusty we don't even know who owns the bricks anymore. It's a restricted area, though. Because of what happened."

"The massacre," Logan said.

"Not the prettiest history, I admit, but I'm sure you'll manage to have a fun time," the waitress said with a wink, and left. 

"So," Logan whispered. "If you were operation a major drug operation, where would you stash your headquarters."

"Around here? The forest."

"Really? I would have gone with one of the ships."

"No way. You can hide way more in the woods," Max said confidently. "Feel like going on a hike?"

Logan raised one eyebrow and wished his legs were working so he could kick her underneath the table for being a smart-ass. 

"Let's check it out anyway. Just cause you got wheels doesn't mean you can't enjoy the same fresh air I can."

"Fresh air? I'm game. Maybe the Forest Service has groomed walking trails. That wouldn't be a problem unless it got really hilly. Besides, it's a nice day for a hike."

"True. And if we just happened to get a little lost following our instincts…"

"…We're just newlyweds looking for a little privacy," Logan finished. "The waitress can back that up."

"Great. It's a plan."

"You really like having a plan," Logan observed. 

"I am the plan," Max shrugged. "We obviously can't get away with blowing up the chemistry lab, so we'll have to just steal incriminating evidence and hope that when Eyes Only breaks the story the police aren't in on the whole operation."

"And leave all those drugs waiting for distribution?"

"I never said that," Max said, giving him a slow grin.

"Let's go."


	7. Hiking in the Cascades

Lights Out

Lights Out

Chapter 7

All Dark Angel characters owned by FOX. No infringement implied.

Logan enjoyed the sunshine. The day couldn't make up its mind: sunny, rainy, sunny, rainy. The teenager who sold them hiking passes warned them about the fickle weather, but Max just shrugged and batted her eyelashes and off they went to the forest. The trails were impeccably groomed and it was easy for Max to push him up half the mountain, but eventually they came to a large section of craggy rocks and Logan gladly wheeled himself off to the side of the path, gesturing for her to continue alone. There was a small glade where sunlight dappled the pine needles; he felt welcomed there, peaceful. Besides, he had a rain poncho if the skies decided to open up.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "Got a lot on my mind that I'd like to sort out. Plus, the view is incredible."

He gestured over his shoulder at the ocean. It seemed very far away, a stripe of grayish-blue beyond the bustle of town. 

"Okay," Max said reluctantly. She gave him a quick grin and headed for the easy rock climb. Logan watched her until she disappeared over the top, then settled back in his chair for some serious reflection.

He was in love with her, no doubt about that.

Consummating their relationship was better than he ever imagined, and he'd spent a fair amount of time on the subject. But he'd been in love with her before that. When did it happen exactly? When she shimmied down the rope and fenced the Bast statue? When she collapsed onto his couch, shaking with seizures? When she showed up in that amazing lace and satin dress and charmed the necktie off his uncle Jonas? Yes, to all three, and dozens of other moments. Logan couldn't pinpoint one instance. She slipped in slowly, and now his heart was inextricably linked with hers. 

He wanted to do something about it. Probably the guy in him. Max would laugh in his face if he suggested they get married. She didn't even know if she'd be alive or captured on any given day, so how could she let her guard down enough to love him back, much less marry him? Tears sprang into his eyes at the thought and he mercilessly shoved the feelings as deep as they would go. He ached for her to love him back, to need him, to want him with the same force he felt for her, but Manticore stood in the way. There was no way he could tear down all the walls necessary for Max to feel completely safe. He'd have to be satisfied with what she could give, whenever she could give it. In the meantime, he could continue loving her wholeheartedly. Lavishly.

*****

Max hiked through the woods for about an hour before she stumbled onto a well-traveled access road. She stayed in the brush on the side of the road and soon came to the facility she knew had to be hiding up here. There were three SUV's parked in the gravel driveway. The facility was made up of three small concrete buildings set in a U-shape, with a radio tower in the back, set on a small rise. She waited for an hour, but no one came in or out of the building. One of the buildings had a utility door with a rusty hinge. Max shook her head at the lax security.

Reluctantly, she jogged back down to where she'd left Logan, knowing she'd need to come back later that night, with her lock-pick tools in hand. 

"Find anything?" Logan asked cheerfully. 

"Found our headquarters," she reported. "It's small, so they'll notice any bold moves. I'll sneak in after dark and stir things up a bit. The shipments I saw yesterday looked ready to be shipped out, so I'm guessing they're preparing for a transport soon."

"Do you think people will notice if we sink the boat?" Logan teased as they began to descend the trail.

"They might," Max said, pretending to think about it. "No, we have to destroy this bitch at the source. Take out the muscle behind it, force the mastermind into the public eye."

"That's a gamble. What if the police are in on it too?"

"I'll try to find that out tonight. Eyes Only might power up his laptop and get on the informant net, too," Max suggested saucily. 

"Do I even have to tell you to be careful?"

"Yeah, yeah, watch your back, we don't know what we're dealing with. I can take it."

"We know exactly what we're dealing with," Logan quietly reminded her. "We're dealing with a bunch of heartless, greedy bastards who created a drug that knocked an X-5 cold for over a week. I don't want to lose you, Max."

Max stopped walking and came around in front of his chair, squatted down to his level. She meant to do so to give him attitude, but the haunted look in his eyes stopped her glib remark before it could reach her lips. He loved her, truly—she could tell. If he looked this way in bed AND out of it, it had to be true. 

"I'll be careful, I promise," she said, relishing the feel of his hand caressing her hair. She broke off the moment before he could say anything further and they continued the rest of their hike in silence.


	8. Bad Guys

Lights Out

Lights Out

Chapter 8

Around midnight, Max got ready for war. _Well, maybe not war_, she thought to herself. The hiking trek would be half recon, half destruction. The simple plan involved her sneaking in, stealing crucial information and slipping back out undetected. Eyes Only found a contact back in the Seattle sector police who planned to use the information to formally shut down the whole illegal drug production scam. It turned out to be a major focus for the sector police and it seemed to be a legitimate claim. They were sending out a large squad to intercept the ship before it left the marina and another squad into Terry Harbor. The local police were standing by, waiting for Eyes Only to deliver proof of who was in charge of the whole operation. Without suspects, they were at a loss, so Max had to find the rat bastard behind the Carfanol disaster and get his name back to Logan, or better yet, deliver the culprit himself.

Max slipped into her catsuit quietly so as not to wake Logan, who slept peacefully in the bed. The sheets twisted around his waist and he had one arm flung out where she had lain just a few minutes ago. The last bout of lovemaking had worn him completely out, Max mused, smiling as she zipped up her quilted vest. For a second her mind went into memory mode, carefully cataloguing all the ways he'd shown her what could happen between two people in love. It was far beyond anything she'd experienced in heat. During those times it was strictly "get some, get gone." The past day changed all that forever, as Logan showed her things she didn't even know her body could feel. Every part of her felt alive, humming with an adrenaline not unlike rappelling down a fifty-story building. 

"Love you," she whispered experimentally to his sleeping form. He didn't so much as flinch. 

Maybe she'd try it again, later. 

**

The small complex was as unguarded at night as it was during the day. Max inwardly scoffed at the lax security. Whoever was running the show was either colossally stupid or they had some high-tech gear tricked out that she wouldn't know about until she got inside. She stayed in the shadows, footsteps silent as she approached the first building. The loose door on the side afforded her an easy entry. She paused for one whole minute on the inside, dutifully waiting for a silent alarm to send the bad guys running, but no one came. Zack's face sprang to mind and she nodded as if he were there, moving forward quickly and with stealth. The lock on the main office was easily picked. Since she didn't need a flashlight to see in the dark, it was easy to rifle through files and papers to find what she needed. The lists of shipments and payments were written down longhand and filed in folders—no computer disks, no electronic recording of any kind. Whoever was running the show was paranoid. 

__

And rich, Max thought disgustedly as she looked at the latest income figures from the Carfanol. Her stomach churned, remembering how the drug completely kicked her ass. _Never again_, she vowed, stuffing the most crucial evidence into a stack and folding it to fit inside her vest. Just then, the cloying scent of a cigar drifted into the office and Max picked her head up, coming face to face with a tall, heavyset man who held a Swisher Sweet in one hand and a semi-automatic in the other.

**

Logan woke up when his cell phone rang.

"Logan, it's me."

"Max, where are you? Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You looked adorable sleeping there. Besides, I thought it would be easy, in and out."

"You _thought_?" Logan pressed her, sitting straight up in bed.

"I got a little shot. Can you meet me down by the marina? I'm letting the guy track me there so we can just bust his ass, but I need gunpower. And possibly a large crowd of witnesses."

"Define a "little" shot," Logan said sternly.

"Stop being my lover and start being my backup," Max snapped. "His name is Keith Groening. We had a little disagreement about whether or not I would steal certain sensitive documents from his office, and he lost, but I got nicked."

"Dammit, Max."

"Just get the Terry Harbor sector police on the line and meet me at the marina. Out."

"Max!" Logan yelled at the now-silent phone. He was fuming, but she was right. This was a mission to her now. She called him for backup, not to remind him to shut the oven off. Her mind was probably in the midst of evasion tactics and combat strategies. He couldn't help it if he was worrying about her, and her alone. Still, the thought of Max in any kind of pain threatened to undo him, especially after the week she'd recently spent comatose in his bed.

Stuffing the emotions down for later, Logan punched in his informant's number. If Max wanted backup, she'd have it in full force. It would take him less than twenty minutes to drive down to the marina from the cabin, but she wouldn't be there for another hour if she'd called him from the mountain. Hopefully, everything would come out at the same time, like a well-planned dinner. 

Hope was definitely not a commodity in Terry Harbor.


	9. I got your back

Lights Out 

Lights Out 

Chapter 9 "I got your back"

A/N: If the action scenes seem stunted, that's because they are. I'm a 'ship writer, not an action one (see my Buffy fic, RE: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Underworld/9157/) I respect action fics, I just don't like writing them. 'Cause it's all tense and Fighty McFight and I'd much rather see Max and Logan relaxing on the couch with a bottle of pre-pulse Riesling. However, may I recommend BlackWolf's DA fic for some quality action stuff? 'Kay. Back to our regularly scheduled part 9.

Max purposefully led Keith Groening to the chemistry lab at the old university, since he had to think she was after the shipment. She didn't bother sneaking in this time, but smashed every door and lock on her way into the large warehouse. The sirens blared and men came flooding out of the lab and the storage bays, shouting commands and attempting to follow procedures they'd never tested. Max easily evaded capture and wished she had Zane around to wire the building with explosives. She wanted the lab obliterated so no one else could take over the production of Carfanol or any of its nastier forms. 

Touching the rip in her pant leg, Max smeared blood on the side of the building. Any idiot could find that stain, even on brick. The familiar bark of guard dogs was comforting, in a strange way. At least they had the power to track her when human powers fell short. It baffled her why the offices weren't guarded but the warehouse and lab had better security, a staff, and guard dogs. Either Groening was arrogant enough to think that no one would bust into his mountain hideaway, or there was something else in the lab worth hiding besides the manufacturing of Carfanol. Max jogged towards the arena, staying far ahead of the guard dogs. They had her scent now, knew that the blood on the side of the building was her precious Manticore fluid. The wound on her thigh felt like a constant bee sting, but it wasn't serious. Logan could stitch her up later if he wasn't squeamish, or she'd do it herself. It was still bleeding because she was still moving. She'd traveled with far worse. 

Like the time she fell out of a tree when she was five and on surveillance training, breaking her arm. She finished her shift without complaint, jogging back in the rain with the other X-5's and saving the news until debriefing, five hours later. One little flesh wound was nothing compared to that. This time, all she had to do was say, "I'm hurt" and Logan would come running to take care of her. That was a luxury she wouldn't take for granted.

Max was pleased to see a small battalion of sector police at the marina, armed to the hilt. Each boat and small vessel was in the process of being thoroughly searched, which was drawing a crowd despite the early hour. The stars still shone brightly in the dark sky, dawn still hours away. Max slowed her pace, sticking to the shadows on the beach. She went into the ocean and dunked herself under, welcoming the sting of salt water into her wound. She couldn't take the chance of any canine getting past the Terry Harbor squad and tracking her past the marina. The dogs came over the hill a few minutes later, followed by most of the lab techs and warehouse workers. The sector police surged up the hill in hot pursuit, but Max hesitated.

The smell of the ocean, the chill in the air, the sight of guns and men yelling, shouting out commands, hiding behind brick and cement… it was just like the Massacre, without the fires. Women's voices were also missing; when the college students revolted, men and women both got involved in the fray. Max pressed her back against a thick piling and closed her eyes to fight off a nasty panic attack.

A huge explosion rocked her out of her flashback with some force. Over the hill she could see a thick cloud of smoke and the reflection of fire on the tips of the pine trees. She hoped it was the chemistry lab. The smartest thing Keith Groening could do would be to destroy the evidence that would convict him, including the folder of incriminating papers she kept close to her heart. Rousing her spirits, Max climbed up onto the boardwalk and looked around for Logan. 

She spotted him instantly, wearing a bulletproof vest underneath his loose jacket, his wheelchair parked next to an unmarked squad car. He was talking to a man in a pressed suit who wore an ear piece and held a cup of coffee. Max crept around the far side of the car, her boots squishing with every step. She pulled out the soggy folder, quickly flipped through it to make sure the writing was still legible, and slid it in the window of the car. Most of the information was written in ball point, which didn't bleed too much, even in salt water. Not all the pages were ruined. Some weren't even wet. There was still plenty of information to incriminate Groening and the whole operation. Her job was done.

"Logan," she called out, casually coming out of the shadows. She positioned herself behind his wheelchair, hoping her dark clothes wouldn't look so obviously soaked. 

"Max," Logan said, unable to keep the surprised relief out of his voice. "Agent Visan, this is Max. My wife."

"Pleasure to meet you," Agent Visan said cordially. "Sorry you had a personal run-in with Carfanol," said, shaking his head. 

"You have no idea," Max said, wondering how much Logan had told the man.

"I'm disgusted the stuff was manufactured in Terry Harbor. With the information from Eyes Only, we should be able to shut it down forever. Excuse me…" Agent Visan trailed off, visibly distracted. Someone had found the folder on the front seat of the car and was flipping through it, excitedly motioning for him to come over. He took the folder, looked at the first few pages, and nodded at Logan before turning his back and barking out a new set of orders to his men.

"He on the take?" Max asked quietly.

"No," Logan assured her. "Agent Keith Groening was on the take. Did he show up in any of those papers?"

"He showed up all over my gunshot wound, that's for sure," Max joked. At Logan's stricken face, she put her wet-gloved hand on his shoulder. "He's named everywhere—signatures, confirmation passwords, lab reports, invoices. I'm guessing he's the pyro behind tonight's light show, too. Wanna wait around and see if they catch him?"

Logan shook his head. She sounded so eager, like a kid waiting for the ice cream truck to arrive. He also noticed that the hand not absently rubbing his shoulder was pressed tightly against her leg, over a rip in her black pants. He looked up into her pale face and made a swift decision.

"Let's go home," he said casually, jerking his head towards the waiting Aztek. "You okay?"

"Go slow," Max said. "Attract no attention."

"You do know you're scaring the hell out of me, right?" Logan said lightly as they passed through the frenetic crowd. He wheeled slowly and wished she would walk in front of him, but she stayed behind him, using the chair to shield her wound from anyone who might be watching closely.

"I'll be fine. It's just a little messy, is all. You squeamish?"

Logan laughed uneasily, picturing the worst. 

"You know," Max added thoughtfully, "this is like the second time in a week an Eyes Only mission has gotten me—"

"Don't even say it. I'm guilty enough as it is."

"Logan, I'm kidding!" Max laughed, finally coming around to face him when they reached his car. "It's not your fault. I was just playin' with you. Get that serious look off your face and stop thinking you're the cause of all the trouble I get into. My choices, my responsibility, and I'm not going to fight about it until I'm warm and dry."

Logan maneuvered himself into the driver's seat and locked the doors as soon as Max was inside. It was a useless gesture against anyone still tracking Max, but it made him feel that much safer. She was still strictly business, ripping the sodden fabric further so she could take a better look at the wound. Logan tried to get a peek, but Max pressed her fist against the hole in her leg that was still sluggishly seeping blood.

"What I wouldn't give for a dose of Carfanol now," Max tried to joke. "My boyfriend's gonna perform minor surgery on me… at least you're not jumpstarting my brain again."

Logan would have smiled at the use of the term "boyfriend," but Max was too pale and shaky-looking for his comfort. She was also starting to shiver a little, like when she had her seizures, but he figured that was because of her wet hair and clothing. Knowing he'd get whacked for the effort, he rolled down the window and called to the nearest sector police officer.

"Where's the hospital?" Logan ventured, feeling Max slug him hard on the arm. 

"Go down Main street and take a left on Evans. It's on the right past the elementary school. You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. No big deal. Thanks."

"Logan," Max hissed.

"I don't exactly have sterile medical equipment in my uncle's cabin, Max. If all you really need is stitches, then that's all they'll do. I'll stay with you the entire time. No one will see your barcode, I promise. I _promise_," he reiterated, driving towards Main street through the growing crowd. 

"I hate hospitals," Max whispered. "Pull over."

"What? No!"

"Look, I can't just walk into the emergency room soaking wet with a gunshot wound in my leg." Max climbed in the backseat as she spoke, moving her leg gingerly. "Get back here and take your pants off."

"_What_?!"

"We have to share. I'll wear your boxers and jacket in, and you can get rid of that bulletproof vest. No one's gonna know you're going commando under your khakis except me and I won't tell, I promise. I'll just say I wandered out of bed to see what was going on and got caught in the line of fire. No one's gonna care about some random innocent bystander, especially if she's the wife of the guy who set up Agent Visan with the goods on Groening."

"Max…"

"Hurry up, I'm freezing!"

Logan saw her pull her shirt over her head and brought the car to a screeching halt. 


	10. Home

Lights Out 10

Lights Out 10

"Home"

Max showed no outward sign of pain as the attending physician probed her thigh to clean the grit and sand out of the bullet wound. He'd given her the appropriate dose of pain medication, but she had already shut herself down into a place where she couldn't feel the pain. Her breathing was deep and slow, her eyes half-closed, her mind carefully focused inward. Lydecker's field training never came in so handy than when she was in excruciating pain. If she stayed in the meditative state she could forcibly put herself into a coma. It was similar to the technique that she would use if she wanted to forget her barcode, or Zack's phone number, or any other critical information someone wanted to torture her for. 

Logan held her hand tightly, his eyes never leaving her face. She had warned him she'd probably zone out while they treated her, but he was unprepared for the unresponsive behavior, her unfocused eyes, the absolute stillness of her body. He kept up a light conversation with the doctor, trying to steer him away from questions like, "Why is her hair wet" and "did you two have a fight?" 

When she came out of the trance, she acted normal, smiling and trying to laugh off the bullet wound. She charmed the doctor and Logan was amazed to find himself driving back to the cabin just before dawn, with no snags or repercussions from their trip to the emergency room. The new day was raw and a cold rain swept in from the ocean. Max scowled at the rain, claiming that after her shower she didn't intend to go outside until it had stopped completely. Logan joked about cats hating to get wet and she readily agreed.

Logan lit a fire to ward off the chill and Max plopped down in front of it, beckoning him down from his wheelchair to join her on the floor. He sat with his back against the couch and she snuggled into his arms, wrapping his arms around her. They watched the flames for a long time as Max's hair dried into messy curls around her shoulders and Logan drifted in and out of sleep. 

"It's not just a reaction to the trauma, you know," Max blurted out.

Logan snapped awake and asked her to repeat herself.

"The coma, this whole search and destroy mission… that's not why I'm like this."

"Why you're not like what?" Logan asked, trying to understand. She spoke as though her words had context—and maybe they did, in her own brain, but he was missing a few salient plot points. 

"Sometimes people get together because they've been through war or whatever, and it's great for awhile and then just dries up and they go their separate ways. I don't want you to think I love you just because of this whole mess with Terry Harbor. I loved you way before that. Overstand?"

Logan grinned widely and kissed her neck. "So, you're in love with me?"

"Honestly," Max huffed, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. 

"Just trying to get all the information," Logan teased her. "Can't take action without all the facts."

Max turned in his arms and bravely met his eyes, which gleamed in the firelight with obvious love for her. It was simultaneously the safest and most afraid she'd ever felt.

"I love you," she said simply, and felt a chill run up her spine that had nothing to do with the weather. 

Logan bent his head and kissed her gently, then pulled back to smile at her. He knew he didn't have to say the words back to her; she knew how he felt, knew he'd die for her. Still, he wanted to erase the speck of doubt he saw lingering in her soulful brown eyes, and banish it forever. 

"I love you, too."

END.


End file.
